a cash flow problem
by Sfoile
Summary: every bar had issues, and the Devil's Nest was not exempt from them. a fic centred around the inhabitants of the Devil's Nest; anime-verse.


I had found this fic lying in my unfinished stuff yesterday. Went and adjusted it a little, wrote up a quick little ending and wah-lah! It is as you see it now. I've always had a soft spot for the chimeras.

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><p><em>Snick. Sniccck.<em>

"Maaaaartel ..."

A low whine sounded beside her, two tables away. A head of spiky green hair arose from its prone position; the corners of its mouth turned down. Dolcetto rubbed his eyes and yawned, momentarily exposing his long curving canines. "Would you keep quiet? Or bring that stupid knife and whetstone somewhere else?"Kimblee, who was as usual nursing a cup of his favorite liquor blinked and Roa standing behind the counter, moved his head in slight agreement.

Not that Roa was _annoyed_; it was just a tad hard to get a rise out of him. A tad hard, like the Sahara desert was a tad hot.

He wiped a dirty glass down with a few experienced twists of his wrist – his face blank as always, keeping his thoughts to himself. Martel sharpening her knife in full view of the bar's otherwise fully human patrons were making them twitch and be nervous, and the gods know (he was actually bloody ashamed to admit this) the Devil's Nest need a bit more income to buy some food.

_What with Kimblee pouring down twenty cups of coffee or liquor down his throat, or Dolcetto eating all the meat, or Biddo stealing eggs from the cupboard – ah, and rats. Shit. Rats._

Martel's frowned. "You've got some nerve, Dolcetto."

She shot a significant glance at a wall marked with long angry deep slashes, obviously made by a sword or a knife.

The human patrons shuffled their feet uneasily. The girl was obviously not a prostitute while the men were just plain. Well, most were seasoned bar-hoppers and most had developed a sixth sense about the patrons of a watering hole. These tough guys found it embarrassing to admit even to themselves, but the truth was that these men were _intimidating_.

And hadn't the golden-eyed feller been in the news before?

"Yeah, well, but-"

Drunken laughter floated down the grimy stairway, reaching their ears and getting different reactions out of them. Kimblee let out a tiny laugh, Roa sighed and Dolcetto rolled his eyes.

Cocking her head slightly – all the better to catch the faint giggles, Martel's frown deepened.

"Would it kill him to tone it down a bit?"

"Never happening," muttered Roa, returning to his glass-wiping. The thing was positively sparkling by now.

"And anyways - " Kimblee's quiet purr filled the bar, insidious and oily. The man touched his glass to his lips, sipping the red wine within as he stared at the empty space behind Roa. "Why are you so interested in what's going on? Positively voyeuristic – it's almost like you are jealous."

_Wham. _

A sharp steel knife smashed into Kimblee's cup, sending shards of glass and droplets of wine flying everywhere.

Kimblee barely missed a beat – "So _that _explains why - "

"MARTEL!"

Roa's loud angry voice blasted the eardrums of everybody unfortunate to be within hearing range, namely the entire bar. He had set down his dirty cloth and the glass he was wiping down on the bar top counter, big calloused hands slapping down onto the cheap wood. Veins throbbed, eyes reddened and the man inhaled deeply.

A week after the Incident, Dolcetto swore that Roa's ox horns had been protruding just the littlest bit.

At her seat, Martel jerked once. Blood dripped from the small cut that was made.

"**DO YOU KNOW,THAT OUR INCOME IS STRETCHED OUT TO THE POINT?THAT I HAVE TO BUY CHEAP FOOD PRODUCTS JUST TO CUT DOWN ON OUR MONEY SPENT EVERY MONTH?AND THERE YOU GO, THROWING A TANTRUM WHEN YOU COULD HAVE JUST IGNORED THE FOOL? NO. INSTEAD, YOU HAD TO SMASH THE GLASS – AND **_**THAT COSTS US MONEY, **_**MARTEL."**

Dolcetto had crawled under the table and was whimpering, if he had a tail he would have stuck it between his legs. Kimblee had hastily left his seat beside the bar counter and joined Dolcetto, except he sat on the chair, struggling to retain what little dignity he had when he sprang a feet into the air at Roa's outburst. Martel's hands were covering her ears and from the foul insults issuing from above, chimeras had been awoken.

Roa wasn't done.

Oh no he wasn't.

He had been waiting for a long, _long _time for this, and no way in hell was anybody going to interrupt his little bit of fun.

**"WE HAVE TO BUY GROCERIES EVERY BLOODY ****THREE**** DAYS, WHAT WITH THAT MAD BOMBER AND THE DOG-BRAINED IDIOT EATING ALL THE COFFEE AND MEAT AND! RATS! THE BLOODY WOODEN CUPBOARDS ARE FALLING APART! LIZARD SKIN STEALING FOOD, PLATES AND GLASSES SMASHED EVERY FEW HOURS, IS IT ANY WONDER THAT OUR SAVINGS ARE FLYING OUT OF THE WINDOW?"**

The remaining patrons had since grabbed their coats, stuck on their hats and high-tailed it out of the bar.

Above in a room, Greed was doing his level best to ignore Roa as he thrust repeatedly into a nice young thing beneath him. He had to give credit to the girl – she certainly had a one-track mind.

Dolcetto and Kimblee down in the bar had long since scuttled away with the patrons when their names had made it into the rant. A moment's thought, and Martel had leapt off her chair and followed the duo.

All was still in the bar.

Roa breathed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"Look," Roa said – almost to himself. "Is it just too much for me to ask for one peaceful night?"

The sound of a bed breaking above and the squeal of a woman hitting the peak of an orgasm broke the silence.

The ox-man closed his eyes.

"I suppose not."

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><p>&amp;end.<p> 


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